and high, the lips sensuous, the eyes fanatical, the look
concentrated yet abstracted. He took a seat among the cushions, and,
after a moment, said to Achmet, in a voice abnormally deep and powerful:
"Diaz--there is no doubt of Diaz?"

"He awaits the signal. The hawk flies not swifter than Diaz will act."

"The people--the bazaars--the markets?"

"As the air stirs a moment before the hurricane comes, so the whisper
has stirred them. From one lip to another, from one street to another,
from one quarter to another, the word has been passed--'Nahoum was
a Christian, but Nahoum was an Egyptian whose heart was Muslim. The
stranger is a Christian and an Inglesi. Reason has fled from the Prince
Pasha, the Inglesi has bewitched him. But the hour of deliverance
draweth nigh. Be ready! To-night!' So has the whisper gone."

Harrik's eyes burned. "God is great," he said. "The time has come. The
Christians spoil us. From France, from England, from Austria--it is
enough. Kaid has handed us over to the Greek usurers, the Inglesi and
the Frank are everywhere. And now this new-comer who would rule Kaid,
and lay his hand upon Egypt like Joseph of old, and bring back Nahoum,
to the shame of every Muslim--behold, the spark is to the tinder, it
shall burn."

"And the hour, Effendina?"

"At midnight. The guns to be trained on the Citadel, the Palace
surrounded. Kaid's Nubians?"

"A hundred will be there, Effendina, the rest a mile away at their
barracks." Achmet rubbed his cold palms together in satisfaction.

"And Prince Kaid, Effendina?" asked Higli cautiously.

The fanatical eyes turned away. "The question is foolish--have ye no
brains?" he said impatiently.

A look of malignant triumph flashed from Achmet to High, and he said,
scarce above a whisper: "May thy footsteps be as the wings of the eagle,
Effendina. The heart of the pomegranate is not redder than our hearts
are red for thee. Cut deep into our hearts, and thou shalt find the last
beat is for thee--and for the Jehad!"

"The Jehad--ay, the Jehad! The time is at hand," answered Harrik,
glowering at the two. "The sword shall not be sheathed till we have
redeemed Egypt. Go your ways, effendis, and peace be on you and on all
the righteous worshippers of God!"

As High and Achmet left the palace, the voice of a holy man--admitted
everywhere and treated with reverence--chanting the Koran, came
somnolently through the court-yard: "Bismillah hirrahmah, nirraheem.
Elhamdu li